


The Boxer and the Italian

by Readerstories



Series: Bonnie Gold x reader [2]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Excessive Drinking, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Shameless Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-17 06:18:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20616374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readerstories/pseuds/Readerstories
Summary: A bonnie x reader where they meet because y/n came to England with Luca Changretta





	The Boxer and the Italian

**Author's Note:**

> Gender-neutral since the anon didn’t specify :) Starts sometime in season 4, ends sometime inbetween season 4 & 5. Also, can’t figure out how old Bonnie is supposed to be, so I’m putting him at 22 like his actor. The reader is a bit older than him (no specified age), felt that was natural since reader is working for Changretta.

God, you fucking hated England. You had agreed to go to this shit-hole of a country to help Luca Changretta with the vendetta against the Shelbys. You had worked for him for years, you considered him a friend, but you are starting to regret it.

You are on your way to the shops, seeing if you can manage to find even some halfway decent food when it begins to rain. Again. You swear, always with the fucking miserable weather. You clamp your hat down on your head, breaking into a light jog as to get out the rain quicker. You run to the closest shop, a bakery, to seek shelter. 

You are too preoccupied with not loosing your hat and getting out of the rain at the same time that you don’t notice the door to the bakery open and a man stepping out. This causes you to run right into him, sending you both stumbling into the shop. 

The man is holding a paper bag with something, nearly loosing it before righting himself. That he is cute is the first thing you notice as soon as you have righted yourself. He can’t be very old, maybe just over 20, dark brown hair, a clean shaven face, and brown eyes that are now looking at you with curiosity. 

You try to shake off some of the rainwater before speaking up, remembering to have some manners even if you are in a shit-hole shaped as a country.

“Sorry about that, had to get out of the rain, didn’t see you before I ran into you. Hope you didn’t lose anything on the floor?” You look up from your coat, catching the boy staring. He shakes his head, as a no or to clear his head you are not certain.

“I didn’t and no worries, I’m fine.” 

“Good.” The boy watches you again, you can also tell the baker is keeping an eye on you both, but too busy with another customer to do or say anything. 

“You are not from around here are you?” You scoff; adjusting your hat on your head so it’s looks more proper.

“Whatever gave it away? My accent, my clothes, my whole fucking being?” The boy has no time to answer before the baker speaks up, interrupting your conversation.

“You going to buy something? If not, you can get out of my shop.” You look at him, irritated. You think about shooting him for a split second, before calming yourself down. It’s not him putting you in a foul mood; it’s his fucking country. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll fucking buy something.” You look over the selection of bread and pastry, trying to pick something to get, as not to annoy the baker any more than you already have. You notice then that the boy you ran into earlier is still standing there, looking at you.

“What are you looking at?” You bark at him. His eyes widen, looking away quickly.

“Nothing.” He says, opening the door and leaving into the rain you just escaped. You snort and turn back to try to figure out what to buy.

\---------

You don’t think anymore of the boy from the bakery until you run into him again, this time as literal as the last time. This time however, it’s him who runs into you. 

You are on your way out of a restaurant, one of the only decent ones you have been able to find, talking quietly in Italian with one the other mobsters when someone collides with you. 

You stumble sideways, managing to catch yourself and the other person before either of you hit the ground. 

“Fucking hell, watch where you are going kid.” You then notice who it is you are holding the arms of. It’s the kid you ran into at the bakery.

“Fucking you again. Wasn’t once enough?” You say, totally ignoring that last time was your fault.

“Sorry, I’m running late for a meeting, didn’t see you.” That seemed like a reasonable explanation, the sidewalk was fairly crowded, so you let go of his arms so he stands on his own again. 

“Again, so sorry.” The boy takes his hat off, bowing deeply like an apology. You exchange a glance with the other mobster.

“My apologises, but I do have to run, going to get punished if I get any later than I already am. Bye!” And with that, the boy is running off again, disappearing into the crowd.

“What and who the fuck was that?” You shrug.

“I don’t fucking know, and I do not care. Let’s go back to the hotel, sure Luca is getting impatient waiting for us.” The other mobster nods, and you start walking away. If your mind keeps going back to that meeting and that cute boy for the rest of the day; that is no-ones business but your own. 

Bonnie is very much in the same situation as you, even taking a punch he could have dodged during training and getting yelled at by his coach.

Truth was, Bonnie had seen you through the window of the restaurant when he walked by earlier. He had wanted to introduce himself properly, but didn’t know how to go about it. The fact that you weren’t there alone didn’t help the situation either. 

He had ended up standing on the street corner out of sight of the restaurant for far too long. This led to him actually being late for his practice, but also led to you actually leaving the restaurant, and that was when he got his brilliant idea. 

It had kind of worked, he had gotten to speak to you again, however brief it had been. He needed to find a better way to meet you again. 

He’s sure if he kept literally running into you every time you met, you would tire of him real fast. Or maybe shoot him. Either or could happen. 

He keeps running towards the gym while trying to formulate some sort of plan.

\---------

Off all the things you had expected to find in England, a regular bar was not one of them. The bar was a short walk from the hotel, but decidedly less fancy and more anonymous. 

No one there gave a shit about you as long as you paid for your drinks and kept to yourself. Which fit your needs perfectly. 

You just wanted to have a place to drink alone and get drunk without anything or anyone bothering you. Luca respected that you sometimes just needed to be left alone, it was something he was used to after knowing you for as long as he had, so he let you go even in the middle of the vendetta. Which you are grateful for. 

This also leads you to be super annoyed when someone slides into your booth one night. Just because you are sat alone in a booth instead of the bar does not mean you want company. You had told many a person (often a whore) this, and are ready to say it again until you notice who it is in the booth with you.

It’s the pretty boy that you ran into and who ran into you earlier. He looks nervous, you let him squirm, taking another drag of your cigarette while you wait for him to speak.

“Fancy meeting you here, you come here often?” You snort at that.

“Really kid, that’s what you go with.” He shrugs, trying to look you in the eye instead of staring a hole into the table.

“What do you want kid?” You voice is not unkind, you are genuinely wondering.

“I want to get to know you.” It almost sounds more like a question than an answer. 

“Know me? You don’t even know who I am.”

“But that could change. I’ll go first, name is Bonnie Gold.” The name rings a bell somewhere in the back of your head, you file it away to think about later. You give him your name. He mutters it under his breath, as to file it away forever. Maybe that is what he is really trying to do.

“Is that Italian?” You nod affirmatively. 

“It is.” You watch him in silence for a few seconds, cigarette smoke drifting between you, trying to fill the space.

“What is it you really want?” Bonnie seems to have gathered some courage from somewhere, as he leans back slightly as to appear more casual.

“I do really want to get to know you. Have a few drinks, talk, and then maybe more if you’ll allow me.” You raise a brow at that. Is he trying to flirt with you?

“Is that so?” 

“Yes.” You take another drag of your cigarette, thinking.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’ve heard-”

“I haven’t heard anything at all. I just knew after our last, eh, run-in that I wanted to get to know you. You seemed.... Interesting.” You tilt your head at that, Bonnie rubs his neck, breaking eye contact. 

“Alright then.” Bonnie snaps his head up, smiling.

“Really?” You nod, gesturing towards the bar. 

“If you buy me a drink, then we can talk.” He up and out his seat before you can tell him what you want, so you just watch him go. At least he has a nice ass, you think as you watch him order something. 

He comes back with two glasses, both filled generously. You take one sniff at it before taking a sip. Rum; and the good shit to. Bonnie watches you take your first sip, seeping happy with your reaction to the drink.

“So, what do you want to know?”

\---------

It’s the end of the night, way too late by any decent standard. Been a long time since you actually gave a shit about that, especially with this good company. Bonnie had turned out to be a wonderful person to talk to, much to your surprise. 

You could joke with him, and he gives back as good as he takes it. It takes the bartender less than gently telling you that the bar is closing for you to leave.

When outside, you light yourself a cigarette, taking a long drag and letting the smoke out in a large cloud. Bonnie snickers at the sight, more than a little drunk. 

You are also pleasantly drunk, feeling like you are almost floating, but still very much present in the moment. Which is why you know that neither of you want to leave. 

You nearly finish your cigarette in silence before either you of do anything. You just look at him , thought churning in your head on how to do this. 

You let your cigarette fall to the ground, taking Bonnie’s hand and pulling him into the alleyway next to the bar. You press him against the wall there, crowding as much as you can into his personal space. 

You push one of your legs in-between his, pressing up. You don’t know what to call the noise that leaves his mouth, but you know you want, no need, to hear more of it. You speak directly into his ear, voice barely above a whisper.

“This is how it’s going to go. I am going to give you the name of the hotel I am staying at, the floor my room is on, and my room number. You are then going to wait here for fifteen minutes after I leave. At the hotel, walk straight to the elevator; speak to no one except the elevator operator to give him the floor number. Go to my door, and then knock on it four times. Is that clear?” You nip at his ear, hearing him swallow heavily. You can feel him leaning into you and grin.

“Yes.” As soon as you have your answer, you let him go. Bonnie has to prevent himself from falling forwards. He looks dazed, even after just a short period of time. Makes you wonder how he’ll be after hours.

“Fifteen minutes.” You point at him, not letting your thoughts go too far. He nods, not trusting his own voice. With that, you turn on your heel and leave. He looks after you in a daze, watching you disappear out his sight. 

He takes a deep breath before taking a look at his pocket watch. Fifteen minutes is going to be torture.

\---------

Fifteen minutes have passed, and yet there is no knock on your door. You pretend like you aren’t filled with impatience. You pour yourself a drink and light a cigarette.

Twenty minutes pass. No knock, no Bonnie. You are done smoking, but have barely touched your drink.

At twenty-five minutes, you start thinking about just getting ready for bed. If he isn’t coming, he isn’t coming. You down the rest of your drink.

Thirty minutes have passed when you hear a knock on your door. And then three more. Happy that he fucking finally showed up, you open the door quickly.

“I got lost.” Bonnie offers up as an explanation. You roll your eyes, not really caring. 

“Come in.” Bonnie carefully steps in. You give a quick look down the hallway while his back is still turned, just making sure that no one saw him coming. When you turn around, you are met with a surprisingly shy smile from a man you have asked to your hotel room to have sex with. 

His smile makes your heart speed up, so you do the only thing that seems natural. You take a hold of his wrist, pulling him into you and smash your lips to his. 

As kisses go, it’s perhaps the messiest one you have ever had. Yours and Bonnie’s coordination is off, teeth almost clashing. But it makes Bonnie let out another, new, wonderful sound, which you also need to hear more of. 

Slowing down slightly, you fall into a better rhythm. Bonnie is clutching your hips like a lifeline. You press into him and can feel the outline of his hardening cock against your crotch. 

You start to push him backwards towards the bed. Even as tempting it is to just do it right in the middle of the room, you have certain standards you try to follow. When Bonnie hits the edge of the bed, you push him down on it. He goes willingly.

You start to take of your clothes, standing between his legs. He just watches you, before you give him a look that says to get with the program. He follows your example; soon you are both naked. 

You almost absentmindedly note to yourself that even if he looked skinny under those clothes, without them he looks to be in excellent shape. You can see the power of those muscles hiding right beneath his skin when he shifts his body to lean back on his elbows, feet still on the floor.

You give him a single kiss, and then practically drag him into the middle of the bed. Bonnie lets out a noise close to a squeak of your show of power. You smile, trying not to laugh. So fucking cute it should be illegal.

You straddle him, going back to kissing him, because that is something you definitely want more of. Bonnie kisses back with passion, rolling his hips into yours, one hand on your hip, the other in your hair. 

Your own hands roam over as much of him as you can reach, making him feel like you are leaving a trail of fire and desire in your wake. 

When your hand grasps his cock he can’t help the shocked moan that escapes his mouth and into yours. You grin, breaking the kiss so you can watch his face while you stroke his cock. Both his hands go to your hips, clinging onto you for dear life.

Bonnie looks beautiful, all slack jawed and big eyes, staring at you with wonder. You grin at him, leaning down to give him a quick kiss. You move down to his neck from there, making your way down his chest. You give each nipple a quick kiss before moving down the rest of his torso. 

You shuffle down a bit, still stroking his cock, his hands falling on the mattress. You plant a small kiss just above his hip, looking up at him. He looks divine. 

You go down even further, slowing down the stroking of his cock to near nothing. You give him a long lick from the bottom of his cock to the very tip, making him gasp. 

One of his hands go over his mouth, you are up there with him in seconds, moving the hand away.

“No, I want to hear you.” Bonnie pants, saying nothing, but nods. You go back down, one of his hands going behind his head, the other into your hair. You let him, giving the tip of his cock a quick kiss in approval.

You take the tip in your mouth, sucking on it slowly. There is nothing that can stop the moan that comes out of Bonnie’s mouth. You need to hear more of them. 

You go down deeper, varying between sucking on his cock and just letting it fill your mouth. You swallow down as much as you can, covering what you can’t take with one of your hands. 

The other hand alternates between fondling his balls and holding down his hips when he tries to buck up into your mouth.

You don’t know how long you are down there, just enjoying listening to all the sounds you can make Bonnie let out. You do however know he is close to coming. 

He tries to warn you, tries to tug you off his cock. You are having none of it, instead you keep sucking, making him let out even more wonderful noises. 

It’s not long before he is spilling into your mouth with a cry of your name, tugging on your hair hard. You drink it down, and then give his cock a last, long lick before sitting up. 

Bonnie is panting heavily, just watching you, trapped in a post-orgasm daze. You smile at him, crawling into his lap once more. 

You bend down to kiss him, letting him taste himself. He finds that he doesn’t really mind the taste as long as you lips are on his. 

Knowing how boneless he feels right now, you take one of his hands and put it at your own crotch. The little gasp that he makes goes into the catalogue of noises you learnt that he can make today, and is saved for another time. 

You roll your hips lazily against his hand. He lets you, even pushing back sometimes to give you more resistance. You are in no hurry to chase your own orgasm, just enjoying the feeling if Bonnie’s hand on you and his lips on yours. 

Eventually, you stop your motions, body shaking with your own orgasm. You break away from your kisses, leaning on his shoulder to moan trough it. When you are done, you get off him, dropping onto the bed right next to him. 

You stretch, feeling how wonderfully loose your body is. It had been a while. Next to you Bonnie is staring at the ceiling, saying nothing. You don’t really mind the silence.

You get up from the bed, making your way over to the drink cart. You don’t bother to put any clothes on; you see no reason to. You pour yourself a glass of rum. 

You look up to ask Bonnie if he wants a drink, catching him staring at you. He blushes, looking away from you. What an odd person. You came by his hand just minutes ago, and now he’s acting shy about seeing your body?

“You want a drink?” You take a sip of yours; it’s not as good as the one from the bar. Damn. You should figure out what brand he had ordered.

“Yes please.” You grin, and pour him a glass of rum too. Ever so polite. You go over to the bed, giving Bonnie his glass before getting back into the bed, leaning against the headboard. 

He shuffles up a bit so he to leaning is on the headboard instead of laying down. He drags the covers up so it’s covering his and your legs. Ever the gentleman.

You both stare off into to space for a while, just letting the silence be while you occasionally take a sips of your drinks. 

It’s Bonnie who speaks first, after taking a big swig of his drink,

“That was.... I don’t even have words.” He chuckles.

“Wonderful, amazing, fantastic?” Your turn to him; not bothering to hide your grin. He slaps your shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, all of those.” You both chuckle, taking another sip of your drink, enjoying the silence.

It’s not long after that Bonnie finishes his drink and gets out of bed. You guess that he has somewhere he needs to be in the morning and needs to go. You don’t mind, even if you wished he could stay for another round.

You decide to help him gather his clothes, as somewhere strewn across the room. One sock is even hanging off a lamp; you don’t even know how he managed that one. You get lightly dressed, just so you are barely able to walk around without too much nudity.

You bend down to pick up his coat, but freeze when you see what is sticking out of his coat pocket. It’s a cap, but not just any cap. It’s the fucking exact same one that the Peaky Blinders use. You hope to all that you believe in that it’s not. 

But that hope is shattered as soon as you feel the cold metal of the razor blades sown into the edge. You straighten up, quiet in your fury.

“What is this?” You don’t even turn towards Bonnie when you speak.

“It’s just my cap.” Bonnie sounds genuinely confused about what the deal about it is.

“You are a fucking Peaky Blinder?” You are almost screaming, but still mindful that these walls aren’t the thickest, and your boss is sleeping just a few rooms away. The boss that has a fucking vendetta against Peaky Blinders. 

The whole fucking reason you are even in this shit-hole country to begin with. At the confused look on Bonnie’s face, you sigh irritably. You gesture with the cap towards him first, then yourself.

“Peaky Blinders, Italian.” You watch at it dawns on him. The shock on his face, the horror when he realises what a fuckery you two had made.

“Fuck, I didn’t, I uhh....” He stutters, not sure what to say.

“You didn’t what, realise I was the fucking enemy? Have sex with me just to try to get some sliver of information?” You are angry, fury lazed in your words. Bonnie rushes forward at your words, crossing the room as quick as he can without actually running. He clutches you face, you have half a mind to punch him, but you don’t.

“I promise. I really just found you fucking attractive, and wanted to get to know you. After you ran into me at the bakery, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I even ran into on purpose the second time to get even the slightest shiver of a chance to talk to you.” He holds your face for a few moments, searching for something in your eyes. He doesn’t know what, eventually letting go to drag his hands over his own face.

“We’re really fucked up didn’t we?” He speaks from behind his hands, hiding his face. You sit down at the nearest flat surface you can find, which is luckily a chair. You lean your head back, staring at the ceiling.

“We did yeah.” Silence. It stretches on for what feels like forever.

“We could just... Ignore the whole supposed to be enemies thing you know.” You look at him like he’s crazy.

“What the fuck do you mean?” 

“I mean, neither of us are directly related to the two families in the vendetta, so it should be fine, right?” You blink, thinking. He has a point.

“Perhaps. I guess. I don’t know.” You tip your head back, closing your eyes. You can hear Bonnie moving around the room, and then you have a weight in your lap. You open your eyes and look at him where he has put himself in your lap. 

He is beautiful, breathtakingly so, so you have to look away. He grabs your chin; gently turning you back to face him.

“I would really like to continue this, whatever this is. We don’t need to let this thing come between us.”

“This ting is a fucking vendetta, not some petty arguing between families.” You try to sound aggressive, but your words have no bite. You are just tired.

“I know that, but still. We can work around it.” You say nothing, opting to just look at him, thinking, thoughts going faster than a runaway train. As if he can sense this, Bonnie leans down to kiss you. 

He gets no response at first, and then you are surging up to meet his kiss. You cling to each other, kiss desperate and hungry. When you stop, you lean your foreheads together, breathing in each other. 

You give him a last quick kiss before gently pushing him off your lap. At the confused look he gives you, you give him a reassuring smile.

“Do not worry, I still want to do this. But you need to go for now, so no one catches onto that you have been here.” Bonnie nods, giving you a tired smile. 

He gathers the last of his clothes, putting them on as he goes. His cap slides back into his coat pocket from where you dropped it on the floor. You stay seated in the chair the whole time, watching him. 

Bonnie gives you a quick kiss and makes to leave, but you catch his wrist. He looks down at it confused. You clear your throat. 

“Same place tomorrow at 9?” Bonnie smiles, nods, giving you another quick kiss before disappearing through the door. You let him this time. You sit in the chair long after he is gone, just thinking. You hope it’s all worth it.

\------------------

After that first bar meeting, you make a habit of it. You never meet there directly again, trying to be discreet. Your meeting time is usually 9 at night, since that is when you are both most likely to be able to sneak away. 

Whoever is first will order a rum and settle into the booth closest to the exit, the one you can still see the bar from. Then they will wait for the other to show up. 

The second person to come will order one beer, drinking it standing at the bar. Since there’s a mirror above the whole length of the bar, it’s easy to spot one another without having to meet directly. 

You both drink up your respective drinks, leaving within ten minutes of each other. You meet outside, and then walk separately to a nearby hotel that neither of you stay at, rotating between a few, as to not be too obvious. You don’t go back to your hotel after that first night.

Most nights it’s Bonnie that is there first, since most times it’s easier for him to slip out. He sits at the booth then, his leg jumping up and down beneath the table. He knows it doesn’t look good, but he can’t help it. He just wants to be with you as much as he can. 

The nights where you are the first one to arrive are actually the ones you love most. You get to sit there, unwind while thinking of Bonnie and waiting for him to stroll through the door. 

He does indeed stroll, even though he denies it to high heaven. You definitely do not mind the way he walks, it makes him look even better and more irresistible.

Some nights, one of you can’t make it to the bar, and some neither of you makes it. You have an agreement that if the other one hasn’t show up an hour after the initial time, the other person should leave.

Those nights are the worst; they are spent alone in your respective ways, thinking about the other. You dislike those nights the most and you know Bonnie does too.

It’s also the fact that both of you know that the other one might be dead. With all the things happening with the vendetta it is a real possibility. You are of course the most likely candidate, but Bonnie isn’t out of the dangers way either with his and his family’s involvement with the Shelbys.

So you try to make the most of it the times you are able to meet, staying as long as you can, pushing the limits of how long you can be together without being missed or noticed. 

You have to leave the hotel room eventually, you returning to the hotel where the rest of the mafia is staying, Bonnie back home to where ever his father has him. You both hate it, not being able to sleep in each other’s arms like you want to.

\------------------

When you find out Bonnie is a boxer, his body build suddenly makes more sense to you. The lean, but yet somehow still muscular shape of his body is a perfect build. 

You don’t really ask him about it, he just tells you out of the blue one night. 

You’ve just had sex, you are lighting another cigarette, like you almost always do afterwards. You have never offered him on before this night, almost seemed too intimate in a weird way, but tonight you do. 

He declines with a shake of his head, just lying in bed next to you.

“What, you don’t smoke?”

“I try not to, my coach says it would interfere with my boxing.” You blink down at him.

“You box? What, like a hobby?” Bonnie looks up at you at that, almost seeming offended. 

“Not a hobby, I’m going to go professional soon.” You hum, taking a long drag of your cigarette.

“Show me then.” Bonnie furrows his brow, flipping over so he’s on his stomach, still looking at you.

“You want me to box you?” He sounds so confused. You chuckle.

“No, I am many things, but a boxer I am not. I meant you get up and show me by yourself.” You lock eyes with him, taking another drag of your cigarette, blowing the smoke into his face. He waves the smoke out of his face.

“Okay then.” Het gets up, only in his underwear and takes up a stance on the floor. Even if he’s not even dressed, you can see the power in his stance. He throws a few jabs at an imaginary opponent; eyes focused somewhere right in front of him. 

You know very little of boxing, having never really had any interest in the sport, but even you can tell that his punches are powerful. He does some more moves while you just sit and watch. When he stops, he’s panting slightly.

“What do you think?” Bonnie’s tone make it seem like he’s searching for something, like approval perhaps? You smile at him. 

You beckon him back to the bed with a single finger, putting out your cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table. He goes slowly, settling in so his back is against the headboard. You straddle him.

“I know fuck all about boxing, but you looked really good.” Bonnie’s smile is glowing.

“Yeah?” You give him a quick kiss.

“Yes. And to show my appreciation of your boxing, I’m going to do this.” You say as you start to suck on his neck and roll your hips. 

He moans, your hand sliding under his underwear, finding him half-hard already. You grin and start to make your way down his chest.

\---------

Another hour later, you are laying next to each other again, both panting from your latest orgasm and looking at the ceiling. 

You have a cigarette between your lips, unlit, as your lighter has fallen down from the bedside table at one point, and you are still too blissed out to summon any kind of muscle control to get it. The silence is comfortable.

“You should come see me sometime.” Confused, you turn your head towards Bonnie. It takes you a while to figure out what he means. You then remember the earlier conversation.

“Oh, one of your matches you mean?” He nods, turning his own head towards you. 

“Maybe one day, if I can make it somehow.” You do want to, but you don’t dare making a promise that you might not be able to keep. It would be rude and maybe even bad luck. 

With that thought in your head, you get up with a groan to look for your lighter so you can smoke your cigarette. Bonnie watches your back while you look, saying nothing.

\------------------

It’s not long before you give Bonnie a nickname. It’s not on purpose really; it just slips out of your mouth on night while you are kissing slowly.

“Bello, Bello.” You whisper in-between kisses, not even realising that you have done it until Bonnie stops and pulls slightly away from you.

“Bello?” He’s confused, you can tell. You are too until you figure out what happened.

“Oh, it’s a nickname for one you care for. It means handsome.” Bonnie grins, you through to fight the butterflies forming in your stomach to no avail.

“Really? You think I’m handsome?” 

“Yes, I do.” You lean in, kissing his briefly on the lips.

“My handsome Bonnie.” You kiss his cheek.

“My Bello.” You kiss the other cheek.

“Mine.” You give him a single kiss on his neck, which turns into several more, which turns into another round in bed. Neither of you mind that at all.

Bonnie tells you he really likes the nickname, so it sticks after that. You try to whisper it to him as often as you can, sprinkled in-between mutterings of his name, and sighs of pleasure.

\------------------

“Where are you going every night?” You look up from where you had been cleaning your gun to catch Luca standing in the doorway of your hotel room, watching you. You take a drag from your cigarette that have been resting in the ashtray next to you while you worked.

“Since when do you care where I go at night Luca?” You go back to cleaning your gun, cigarette back in the ashtray.

“Since we’re in this shit-hole of a country and in the middle of a vendetta against the Shelbys.” His tone is sharp, but not unkind. You sigh. You let the lie you knew would have to come roll of your tongue.

“I’m fucking whores Luca, not like there’s much else to do here when we’re not shooting at someone or being shot at.” Silence for a few seconds, then the closest thing to a laugh you have heard from Luca in months.

“Yeah, just make sure you don’t get anything you don’t want from them.” You look up at him with a frown on your face.

“Thought you knew me better than that Luca, I do have standards and good taste when it comes to whores.” Luca snorts, hiding a grin behind his hand while pretending to scratch his cheek.

“I seem to remember things very differently. Remember, what’s her name, Elizabeth Rizzo?” You groan, this time Luca doesn’t even hide is grin.

“Ah yes, didn’t she follow you home at one point.”

“Okay, one bad fucking choice. Not my damn fault.”

“Whatever you say, I’ll let you clean the rest of your guns in peace.” Luca closes the door behind himself when he leave, grin still on his face. 

“Motherfucker.” You haven’t seen Luca joke like that in a long time. You doubt it will ever happen again.

\------------------

You are there at the boxing match when it all goes down. You are watching Bonnie box from the shadows, not in your own clothes, blending into the crowd. Luca had sent you there to keep an eye on everything, to make sure that it all goes to plan. 

You are only really watching Bonnie in the ring, paying no mind to anything else but him. He is beautiful in the way he moves. 

You don’t like seeing him take hits, but you know he’s just waiting for an opportunity to strike. Or he has been told to wait, to draw out the fight to make it more exciting. If you were the kind of person to bet, you would have gone for that. 

In the fourth round Bonnie knocks Goliath out, to an uproar from the crowd. 

Then Thomas Shelby is in the ring, firing his gun in the air, screaming that his brother has been killed. He seems mad with grief. You pretend to be shocked and scared, playing along with the rest of the crowd. 

You manage to make it out of there without anyone catching on to your Italian roots. Your time with Bonnie had paid off in an unexpected way as you are able to mimic his accent to almost perfection when you need to speak. 

You make it out of the venue without any trouble, but are stopped just a block away by two men that are clearly Peaky Blinders.

“Mr Shelby wants to speak with you.” You shift your gaze between the two men, thinking about shooting them both and making a run for it. But you don’t. 

If Shelby wanted you dead, you would have been as soon as you stepped into the venue. So instead you spread your arms wide, showing that you are unarmed, like everyone had to be.

“Show me the way fellas.”

\------------------

When Luca Changretta meets with Thomas Shelby for the last time, you are one of many that stand by, not doing anything when your boss and friend dies. 

He calls your name before anyone else’s, staring in disbelief when neither you nor anyone else says anything.

You stand there, watching him be beaten by Tommy Shelby, then shot and killed by the recently resurrected Arthur Shelby. Not like he was dead in the first place, but seeing the shock on everyone that believed he was is something else.

Before you came to England you would never dreamed of doing anything like this, but love changes a person and their priorities. 

\------------------

When everyone leaves to go back home, you give some weak excuse about why you stay behind to the men. A few of them guess your real intentions correctly, but you don’t tell them how right they are, instead just telling them to fuck off, and to make sure they get on the boat before it leaves without them.

You stand on the docks, watching the boat leave and smoking when you are joined by another presence at your side. A quick look and you recognize Thomas Shelby, just standing there with his hands in his pockets and a cigarette in his mouth. You say nothing, keeping your eyes locked on the boat.

“Thought we told everyone to fuck off.” 

“I didn’t stay because of any of you, so don’t fucking flatter yourself.” The look he gives you is sceptical and calculating. You hadn’t expected anything less.

“I can’t really go back to New York now can I? My boss and friend got fucking murdered and I stood by and did fuck all didn’t I? And I rather not join this new boss. There’s going to be no trust there with my previous position and history. I got a better chance of staying alive in this shit-hole.”

“You seem fine with sending the rest of them home.” You glance at him, waving dismissively with your cigarette.

“They were low-ranking soldiers, not much more any of them except Daniel and Matteo. The real loyal ones you already killed, so there’s that.”

“We could always kill you.” You snort, taking a deep drag of your cigarette, finally turning to look at Thomas Shelby properly.

“Except there would no fucking point would there Mr Shelby? Luca is dead, the vendetta is gone, and as I already have said, I’m not here for you.” Shelby watches you, face made of stone.

“I guess not.” You take a last drag of your cigarette before you throw it on the ground, stepping on it to kill the flame.

“Thank you Mr Shelby.” You do a mock bow; this time it’s Mr Shelby who snorts.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere I would rather be than on a shitty dock with you.” He says nothing, so you take it as your cue to leave.

\------------------

You don’t see Thomas Shelby for a few months, which you are more than happy with. You much prefer spending time with Bonnie, the real reason you stayed behind in this country you supposedly hate. 

You are in a bar somewhere in London, tucked away in a private booth with Bonnie. It’s a slow night; you haven’t really done anything except talk and drink all night, just happy to be with each other. You are so glad Bonnie had managed to sneak away from his training and father for the weekend so you could spend time together. 

You know that some of that time will be spent in bed together, but for now you are content with this. You make sure to steal some kisses between the talking and people watching you two do, always quick and discreet. 

Your hand is on his thigh all night, almost absentmindedly slowly stroking it. You can tell it’s making Bonnie’s mind go places that you definitely don’t mind. 

He gets up for only the second time tonight, telling you he has to use the bathroom and then he’ll return with more drinks for both of you. You give him a quick peck on the lips before he goes. 

While you wait, you go back to just watching the other patrons in the bar. You are so preoccupied with trying to make up a funny backstory about the man with silver striped hair to tell to Bonnie when he gets back, that you don’t notice that someone new have slid into the booth opposite you before they give your shin a light kick under the table. 

You startle, ready to hurl whatever insult you can think of at the person, then you notice who it is. Thomas fucking Shelby.

“Mr Shelby.” Your tone is clipped, trying to very much tell him to fuck off without saying the actual words. He ignores it of course, the bastard.

“So this is what you stayed for.” He says, gesturing to the bar.

“I do believe that is none of your fucking business.” He gets out a package of cigarettes, taking one for himself before offering you one. You take one, hoping it will get him to leave quicker, and to make sure he has at least one less cigarette to enjoy. He lights his with a match, you light yours with your lighter.

“It is my fuckin’ business when you’re one of the people that tried to kill me and my family, and killed my brother, just a few months ago.” 

“I thought I made it very clear last time we met that I didn’t fucking stay for you, you obtuse prick.”

“So what did you stay for then?” Before you can give a similar answer to the one you gave just minutes ago, Bonnie appears next to you, bottle of rum and two glasses in hand.

“Mr Shelby?” Bonnie is one big question mark beside you. Shelby flickers his eyes quickly between you two before a slow grin appears on his face.

“Bonnie, nice to see you again. So this is where you have been sneaking off to ey’?” Bonnie stammers, slowly turning red. You pull him down on the seat next to you.

“Kindly fuck off Mr. Shelby.” Bonnie gapes at your rudeness, Shelby just grins.

“Okay, I can tell when I’m clearly not wanted.” He gets up, buttoning his jacket, looking every bit the bastard he is.

“Be sure to be back in time for you training on Monday Bonnie, don’t want your father to worry ey’?” Bonnie doesn’t answer, while you give Shelby the finger. He says nothing, another grin spreading on his face before he turns and leaves, disappearing into the crowd.

“You shouldn’t have acted like that in front of Mr. Shelby.” You don’t answer that, instead watching the crowd to make sure that his stupid cap is gone. You pull Bonnie into your side, making him let out a noise close to a squeak that he will forever deny making.

“I know I said I wasn’t here for him, but I do really want to shoot him right now.” Bonnie rolls his eyes, recognising your mood for what it is, mostly annoyance at having your night interrupted. 

He finally puts the glasses down on the table, pouring you both a glass of rum. He gives on to you, you take it absentmindedly, still making sure that Shelby is really gone. Bonnie taps your cheek, making you focus back on him.

“Ignore him. I’m here, you’re here, and there is no one else we should be focusing on right now.” You sigh. You know he is right. You lean in, giving him a quick kiss.

“Sorry, you’re right.” After that, you go back to what you were doing before you were interrupted, just enjoying each other’s company. 

At some time during the night, you leave the bar, ending up at your apartment, in your bed, thoroughly enjoying each other’s company. And for now, you are happy.


End file.
